


Revenge Of The Butterfly

by Nyxierose



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Vigilantism, think arrow but not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3897289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Octavia is a vigilante.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revenge Of The Butterfly

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by several shows (Arrow, Daredevil, prolly The Flash to an extent) that I don't actively watch.

“They stole it.”

Octavia Blake has never seen her roommate look this angry. “Wait, what?”

A phone is pressed into the smaller woman’s hands. “Read it and weep. Or alternatively join me in plotting mass murder. Your call.”

“ _Mountain Technology announces revolutionary new device_ … they stole the Shuttle. The nerve of them.”

“Exactly what I was saying,” Raven mutters. “I’m fucked. They have my device and everything they need to market it, and who the hell is going to listen to one angry brown girl over one of the biggest tech firms in the country?”

“There has to be a way.”

“Nothing’s coming to mind. Even I’m not  _that_  good.”

“What about revenge?” Octavia suggests, a dangerous look in her eyes.

“Like corporate espionage? Because I’m pretty sure I’m banned from their property and I am  _not_  getting arrested for this…”

“I was thinking more like a superhero. Except maybe not so morally light.”

“Yeah, because I can totally do that.” Raven gestures to her leg brace for emphasis. “Small agility problem.”

“I didn’t say it had to be you.”

“You’re volunteering?”

“I need a hobby, remember? Going all vigilante isn’t the  _worst_  idea I’ve ever had…”

Raven rolls her eyes - as much as both women would like to pretend otherwise, it  _really_  isn’t. “In that case, give me a week and I might have something for you to play with.”

* * *

“What are those?” Octavia asks, starting at the objects in Raven’s hands.

“Remember how you wanted to cosplay Black Widow that one time a few years ago and told me  _not_  to make realistic weapons for you?”

“You made them anyway,” Octavia realizes.

“Yup. In the form of super cute fingerless gloves. If you directly touch someone while wearing these, they get enough of a shock to stay away. And if you make a fist and then snap your wrist downward, you release an energy pulse.”

“How did you even come up with this?”

“I watch a lot of TV and my brain is a wonderful place?”

“What do they run on?”

“One hell of a tiny battery cell - years ahead of anything on the market, Mountain couldn’t even  _dream_  of this baby and I didn’t give the bastards the chance - and… it also runs on you, a little bit. Not  _entirely_  sure what that’s going to feel like, but I’m eyeballing the same effect as a sunburn?”

“So you’re asking me to play guinea pig again?”

“You ask too many questions, Blake. This was your weird idea. I’m just enabling you. Get it right.”

“Okay, okay. I trust you, Raven.”

“Good. Now let’s just hope these babies work…”

* * *

“It’s bright blue. Electricity isn’t-”

“Electricity doesn’t have a specific color, Octavia. The reason the pulses are blue is ‘cause I thought it’d look cool.”

“You’re amazing.”

“Damn right I am. Now, do you have a plan? Because I know we talked about you just walking in there, but…”

“I said vigilante, not hitwoman. I need to get some practice before I go for the big one.”

“Practice like how?”

“Practice like attracting assholes in nightclubs.”

“Well, in that case, you’re gonna need a mask… don’t want anybody figuring out that cute little Octavia is actually a murderer…”

“I’m not going to kill anyone, Ray. At least, not intentionally?”

* * *

Over the next few weeks, a wisp of a girl in a flowing dress, a masquerade mask, and long fingerless gloves floats through a range of the city’s bars and nightclubs. In her wake, a series of awful men are found in nearby alleys, each with a vague memory of a blue light. The two events are not connected - and then they are.

The first blogger to cover the situation refers to the girl as The Butterfly. Everyone else follows suit.

Raven sets up alerts for new content, which ranges from people wanting the girl arrested to one blogger who isn’t totally sure what she’s doing but is completely in awe of her. It’s the latter one that strikes her as a problem.

“Do we know this guy?” she asks Octavia, pulling up one of the latest posts.

“Nope. He’s pretty, though.”

“And has a crush on your weird alter ego, so good luck with that one.”

“I didn’t say I was going to do anything.”

“You didn’t need to. We’ve been best friends since we were twelve, remember? I know you. I know that look you get when you’re planning something, and… right now I’m seeing that look stronger than ever.”

* * *

As it turns out, Octavia doesn’t need to do anything at all. On one of her nighttime outings, someone pulls a gun on her, and… that’s all she remembers.

That, and then waking up in a strange bed. Still as clothed as she was the last time she was conscious, thank god, but minus her gloves and her mask.  _Shit_.

“Hey!” she yells. Her voice is shaky, but her body feels fine apart from general soreness. At the very least, she’s not bleeding. “Can anyone hear me?”

A door opens and a man appears. She’s seen him before, she thinks, and then she remembers - the blogger, the one whose kindness amazes her every time she sees a defense post. She can’t exactly  _say_  that just yet, but it’s a nice reassurance.

“You’re okay,” he says, walking over and sitting down on a chair near the bed. “You’re okay.”

“How did I get here?”

“I… I know this sounds odd bordering on creepy, but… I found you, I wasn’t sure what had happened, and…”

“So taking a random unconscious girl back to your apartment seemed like a good idea?”

“Not now that you say it like that?”

Octavia relaxes a little. “Okay then.”

“I didn’t know what else to do. I would’ve called 911, but… you’re the Butterfly.”

“And you’re the person who gave me that name.”

Their eyes meet and his fingers entwine with hers. “I’m sorry?”

“I think it’s cute,” she laughs. “A little weird, maybe, but cute.”

“Good.”

She closes her eyes, the weight overcoming her. “I feel safe here.”

* * *

A few hours later, she wakes up again and the man is still there and everything is okay. There’s a blanket over her body, but it’s squishy and she appreciates the effort this one is putting up. He doesn’t need to, but…

“Everything okay?”

“That’s such a vague word,” she mutters. “Yeah. I think so.”

“You’ve been out for about twelve hours.”

“I feel fine.” She takes a few breaths, tries to assess him. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s the decent human thing.”

“Most people think I’m dangerous. You don’t. Why?”

“I look at the list of your so-called victims and… you’re tightening a noose. You’re doing something I’m not strong enough to do.”

“So if I tell you that my eventual plan is to physically attack the acting CEO of Mountain… you’d still be on my side?”

“They’ve hurt a lot of people, Butterfly.”

“My name is Octavia,” she says, because he deserves to know.

“It’s nice to meet you, Octavia.” The man smiles and she has never seen such light in human form. “I’m Lincoln.”

“Lincoln,” she repeats. His name sounds nice, comforting. “So what did they do to you?”

He pushes up his shirtsleeve, revealing a lattice of scars and needle marks. “That.”

She reaches out and gently runs her fingers over his skin. “You’re brave.”

“Not like you, not like-”

“Shut up,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “You are. You’re still fighting. You’re on my side even though there’s no reason for it, even though you don’t know me.”

“And what if I want to know you?”

She leans up and gently presses her lips to his. “I’d like that.”

* * *

The first documented appearance of the Butterfly’s companion occurs a month later. He is tall, dark, and carries a sword. The internet decides to refer to him as the Reaper.

“The fricking nerve of them,” Octavia mutters when she sees it the first time. “It’s like they know what we’re doing.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” her partner asks.

“Lincoln, I… I’m scared. This was a great idea but… we’re getting so close, and… what if something goes wrong?”

“I’ll take that risk if it’s what you want.”

“But what about what  _you_  want?”

“I’m in this of my own free will. If I follow you, that’s my choice. Always.”

“I love you.”

* * *

Two months after  _that_ , the CEO of Mountain Technology is found dead in his office. Exact cause of death is uncertain, but the coroner figures out that quite a lot of electricity went through his body shortly before death. He is also missing both his hands, which are found on the floor several feet away.

There is no security footage from that night. If there had been, the feed from a certain hallway would’ve shown a small masked woman jumping into the arms of a man twice her size and clad in all black. And then they kiss.

It is the end of an era. It is  _not_  their final appearance.


End file.
